A Love That Never Left
by FrUKtrash123
Summary: It all starts when Francis pays Arthur a visit. Secrets come out and hearts are broken...but as time passes will the Country of Amour be able to get back on his feet? (Ships will consist of FrUK, PruCan, RoChu, GerIta, and AmeriPan) This will be a sad, and heartwrenching story. There will be serious topics talked and written about. Such as self harm. If you can't handle these thing
1. Visiting Angleterre

**Hello everyone! So, i'm new to and I really wanna improve my writing skills so I have great writing skills to achive my dream of becoming an Author. I have a Quotev account where I will be doing my updates on and tranferring it over on here. I have my good friend Beta reading for me Rosemary1234. I hope you will enjoy this story as much as I do, and I promise i'll try to update often, since I love writing this story and really want my readers to enjoy this little world of Hetalia in a way you may not have seen before. Thank you all, and lets begin the story!**

The Frenchman scanned the house before him, his sapphire eyes seeming to examine it as if he were a surgeon and the house was his patient. The Victorian style mansion; it was elegant yet unique. Old, especially compared to the modern ages they were living in. Charming... it was a marvel, he had to admit. Although aged much older than the typical human lifespan, it was still standing. Proud and tall. This house was a matching pair for the man who resided inside it in more ways than one. He already memorized the never changing house; dropping by for visits often enough to know it like the back of his own smooth and pillow-soft hands. Once again he found himself visiting the beautiful home. This time for a purpose he wasn't willing to let escape his lips.

His fist knocked on the door elegantly, the noise of the old oak-wood door being disturbed and banged upon filling his ears. Inside of the residence, a British man was busy leaving his graceful handwritten script on his documents. Not just any documents- those that were of a nation's work to upkeep their country and stay up to date with current events around the world. For that was what they were; beings that didn't age physically no matter how long they remained on this earth. Stuck living an eternal life until the countries they represented fell apart and no longer existed. Then and only then would they be released from earth.

Upon hearing the door being beaten on, the British man let out a loud curse, being known to be terribly irritable... even more so when his work was disturbed. He continued to grumble under his breath, sounding as if he had thunderstorms living in his throat. He propped himself out of the dark leather office chair and hurried to the door.

He unlocked it, opening it quickly to reveal his lifelong friend, enemy, and everything else between (what with the escapades, schemes, and fights they had been through). His emerald eyes narrowed, making them barely visible as a result. His mind played with the idea of closing the door in his face. He knew that he would give up eventually and head back home. But he knew he had went through quite some traveling to get there, despite the close proximity France and England were from each other geographically. It was still a moderate plane ride.

He kept his glare, the lion inside of him truly unleashed. Short tempered; known to be dangerous, vicious. Both misunderstood but elegant and beautiful creatures. His sophisticated, yet rough accent cut through the air, making his powerful voice even more intimidating; "What do you want, Francis?"

Francis's lips curled into a candy sweet smile, barely showing the pearly whites that resided in his lips. His eyes lit up like a brand new lightbulb once he saw the door open, taking in the sight of the British man before him.

"I came to visit you Arthur. Is that such a crime?"

Arthur immediately shut out that possibility, just like what he was about to do to the door. He figured the reason was to pester him, borrow money that he probably wouldn't pay back, or something else that would waste his precious work time. He let a scoff emit from his lips.

"Yeah right."

Quick to the draw, Francis stopped Arthur from closing the door anymore on him. It would have done him no good if Arthur just left him out there. It would have made him travel here in vain. A small sigh escaped him before he said, "Alfred said you hadn't been talking to anyone for quite some time and I came to see you."

The statement wasn't untrue, but he used it to cover up the true reason he was at his doorstep.

"So how are you doing, mon cher?"

The British man let a low growl escape his throat, like a lion ready to defend his pride. He made himself a reminder to scold the childish American for not keeping to himself. Alfred tended to exaggerate the truth. That was something he knew for a fact. He had indeed been sequestered in his study for a while, but not more than a day at most. His boss had been laying on the work thick, too thick even for someone like Arthur who enjoyed doing his country duties. It was nothing to worry about however; it wasn't as if he were shielding himself from the world or something completely pointless like that.

"I was doing well until your ugly mug showed up."

Ah, the typical insults. How Francis had gotten used to them and tolerated them was a mystery. Anyone else might have sent a little bark of a small puppy in return of his lion-like roar. Francis was completely different; he was experienced in the matter. _'Humor him'_ , that's what he had always done. Pretend to be offended and watch him bask in his British tsundere glory. So he mimicked hurt, for that emotion was something he didn't feel at times like these.

"You wound me Angleterre! You can be so cold sometimes..."

Small victory, that was all he gained from it. More might've been present if he was actually in the mood to deal with the pestering Frenchman. He found himself drifting away from the door and letting him inside, in slow reluctant strides. He turned away from him to make his way to his ancient redwood desktop once more, where there were neat stacks of paper sorted by what was done and what was not.

"As 'fun' as this visit may turn out, I am quite busy at the moment." He rested his pointed finger to the large stack of unfinished papers, swiftly taking a seat in the leather chair once more before busying himself with the documents again.

Francis wouldn't give in so easily. That was just not who he was. He strode over to the desk and watched the way Arthur wrote. The penmanship was absolutely marvelous. Neat and graceful cursive script filled the stacks of papers. Most just required signatures, some needed a bit more. Either way Arthur had the handwriting of what seemed like an angel. Half of the page had been filled before his nerves had snapped. His emerald eyes hit Francis's own sapphire ones and he grumbled, "I can't work with your breathing over my shoulder. It's distracting."

Immediately, a seemingly mile wide smirk slipped onto his face. His ego had always appeared to be bigger than the eyebrows of the British man that was sitting across from him.

"Is it because my charms are distracting you~?"

He rolled his eyes, expecting that kind of response from him as soon as he had finished speaking. He shook his head disapprovingly.

"No, it's just rude to stare, you twat."

His airy laugh had once again filled the air, and his smirk curled up even wider. If that were even possible.

"You were being rude to _me_ earlier. I was just making it even."

His irritated growl filled the room, his eyes not showing even a slight trace of amusement. Francis always seemed to know how to piss him off in one way or another.

"You were rude to me first when you came to my house uninvited! Therefore, I was the one who made it even."

Francis didn't want to admit it, but he knew he was right. He chuckled a little to fill the dead air. "Well, maybe I'm just purposely being a pest then."

Arthur let out a loud scoff at that. "A pest that should be exterminated quickly."

With that, he turned his emeralds back to the page, continuing to write so flawlessly elegant.

Francis was a bit mesmerized by it, and at the same time just a tad bit jealous. How was it that handwriting could be so perfect? It was a wonder to the Frenchmen. Every moment that Francis watched, Arthur in turn only got more annoyed. His gaze went back to him, his voice holding a clearly annoyed tone.

"What do I have to do to get you to leave me be?"

His bright gaze snapped away from the pen and rested on his face. He ruffled Arthur's already messy blonde hair, making it even messier. "I could never leave Angleterre, I am staying!"

Arthur batted his hand away like a cat at a laser pointer. He had a small flicker of sadness as he spoke quietly. "Says the bloke who helped the Americans gain independence..."

Francis could feel the tension in the air upon that being mentioned. His gaze instantly went from cheerful to nostalgic and sympathetic.

"Are you still upset about that Angleterre? The boy wanted to be free. I saw it, and I had to help him. You were just being possessive over him, mon cher."

Arthur narrowed his emerald eyes and avoided his gaze. "No...I have learned my lesson." Francis nodded slowly, resting a hand on his shoulder and patting it lightly.

"Good. That's good."

Arthur had been upset at the topic, feeling dumb for bringing it up. He started to do his written magic once more as he spoke.

"I've learned that there's no room for personal attachments between us Nations because personal attachments only make things more complicated..." His words were tipped with an iceberg cold tone. He was extremely serious about the topic. It had explained why he always shut people out.

Everyone whose lives he'd touched had been ripped away from him in a cruel way. Alfred's independence just showed him there was no room for love in the hidden, castle-sized heart he had. It didn't matter if it were love as family or as a partner. He couldn't let it in, whether he wanted to or not.

Francis had been taken aback by the way Arthur had spoken. He hoped it was out of spite rather than it being true.

"So you'd never consider... having feelings for another nation?"

The chair had moved at least an inch away from Francis, if not more. His gaze kept away from him, showing the severity of how much discomfort he had discussing this.

"I've given up on it... as well as a few other things over the years."

Francis soon got curious, so much it was bound to hurt him. Curiosity killed the cat, as they say. "Given up on it? Does that mean you like someone? Honhonhon~ Tell me who, Angleterre! Tell me, tell me~!"

The emeralds met the sapphires, but the emeralds seemed almost weak and pained at the subject. Not at all normal- that was the part that was for certain.

"I 'fancied' someone once, but that doesn't matter now..." His rare moment of vulnerability left as his emeralds became defensive and cold.

"And hush up! You're being too loud and I can barely hear myself think!"

He had hoped that Francis would drop the subject. His complaint had been a distraction, to make the Frenchman leave and just mind his own business for once. It was a hard subject for Arthur to talk about. He was still trying to pick up the pieces of the love puzzle and put them together. As to be expected, Francis did not drop the subject. He lowered his voice, just one level and said; "May I ask whom you 'fancied', Angleterre?"

But by this point, Arthur was like a teapot on the stove. Boiling and filled with steam. All he wanted was to forget about it and write everything down that was needed to complete his work for the day. He didn't need this. Especially now. He had a literal brick wall inside of his eyes.

"No, and why would I tell you of all people about it?"

Francis felt a sting of hurt ripple through him at finding that Arthur didn't trust him. He wanted Arthur to be open and tell him anything! He masked the still present stinging sensation with a light and friendly smile.

"Because, I would never use your feelings about a person you love against you. I love, love too much to do that! I am the country of amour after all!"

Arthur's eyes twitched in annoyance. Francis was like a fly buzzing by his ear; loud, annoying and persistent. Emeralds flashed angrily at the sapphires, wishing the matter would drop. Far too well, he knew Francis. The matter would never be dropped as long as he stood there. He kept his heart locked with a padlock and chains surrounded by protective glass. It was always hard to tell if he ever had a positive thought or feeling about someone. He was that good. He opened his heart to no one, it seemed... and he didn't want Francis to pick the lock and force himself in.

"I can't exactly trust you, now can I? So no. And what would it matter if I foolishly fell in love with someone? It was a mistake and I'd rather not relive it."

Francis found it a bit ridiculous that Arthur was being so difficult. Why did it matter he asked? The answer was so simple. Francis was a curious soul, especially when it came to matters of the heart. It mattered because if the one he loved had loved him back, Angleterre could live a happy life by their side. More importantly, if it were he that he loved, they could live a happy life together.

Of course, he had his doubts. Arthur was a complicated person. His heart wanted to believe that it was possible the grouchy Englishman had indeed loved him back. But the rational part of his brain told him it was almost impossible for that to be so. "Because who knows... maybe that person foolishly fell in love with you too?"

The blazing emerald eyes only burned brighter, making his temper scorch and shrivel away to nothing but ashes. He really wanted to throw him out, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. Lovesick puppy style, he'd come back and scratch and whine at the door, making Arthur feel guilty before he let him in again. _'Why bother?'_

He did, however, strongly consider covering his ears and yelling at him to shut up until he grew tired of it. "Does it matter if he did? No it doesn't. The past is the past. Like I said, I learned my lesson."

Hope was starting to be lost for the Frenchman. He knew Arthur was a very tough egg to crack. But his face lit up like a light bulb once an idea came to him. Arthur was always one that liked to have the upper hand, so if he made it seem that way without it being so, he would have him in his grasp. Mischief consumed his features as he laid his sapphires directly on Arthur's emeralds with no sign of moving them elsewhere.

"Would you tell me if I told you a secret of mine?"

And just like that, his interest had been caught. _'A secret about the frog?'_ It almost seemed too good to be true. Arthur wasn't a fool however; he knew very well that Francis might ensnare him in a trap. Shooting him a falsely reluctant gaze, he replied; "That would depend on what kind of secret you tell me."

He pretended to make it look like he was thinking about what he should tell, but really he knew already. He hoped to reel him in like a fisherman did a large catch. Arthur may try to pull the line back, but he was hopeful he would catch the prize he was after in the end. He let a small smirk slide onto his face as he said; "How about one of who I used to have a thing for when I was a petite boy?"

A bushy brow had risen on the British man's face. _'An interesting choice.'_ By that point, he had been split in half. One side feeling curiosity prick angrily at the other, who was disinterested. The curiosity soon overwhelmed the other half and he found his lips making out the words of, "Oh? Continue on then..."

Francis suddenly had a nostalgic look in his eyes. His mind played like a film reel did an old movie. Suddenly, the mind movie played a scene of a young boy, looking strikingly similar to a certain messy blonde haired and emerald eyed someone he knew. He let out a content sigh and started softly.

"When I was small, there was a boy I met. I could never remember his name well at the time. He had quite a bad temper, but was very good looking..."


	2. Visiting Angleterre (Part 2)

Arthur listened to the words Francis had been saying with attentive ears. A very vague description he had noticed, especially coming from Francis. The Frenchman tended to go into detail about many things, most often things he didn't want to hear. It was Francis's specialty. The sudden realization hit him; Francis was doing this on purpose to keep him interested. Tempted to say something sarcastic due to his annoyance, he just stared at him for a moment. Deciding against it last minute, he then said slowly, "Continue on. What happened then?"

All the years they had together played in his mind, each filled with times of child-like joy and heartbreaking sorrow. The nostalgic and bright look of love faded in his eyes. He adored those years. He loved them with a heart of pure gold and a burning passion that was more intense than the sun. It was his life, all those years that went by. It came to him in that moment. What 'it' was, wasn't a simple thing. 'It' was his childhood and everything leading to that moment. Those flashbacks. They revealed to him that throughout his whole life... Arthur was there.

Arthur _was_ his life. It wouldn't be anything if he wasn't in it. Every year of unrelenting emotion, battles, poverty, sickness, health, good, bad, ugly... Arthur. Was. There... It had suddenly become clear.

Arthur was what his life stood upon. He couldn't have life without him there. _That_ was the reality of it all. He looked over at him and said softly, "I continued to see him. With each visit, we both got older, and older... and older. He seemed to be less interested in seeing me as time passed for a long time. Eventually we were rivals. Then, things got a bit better. We are the best of friends, even if we still argue all the time. But I've never known how he feels about me... then again I've never asked."

Speechless. That was how Arthur felt for a second. He had not seen Francis feel so emotional about someone in a long time. He pushed the thought of that person away. He didn't want the guilt gnawing at him even more than it usually did. _'Whoever this was must be very special to him.'_ He felt conflicted on what to say to him. So, doing what most people do in a state of confusion, he asked a very stupid question; "Do you still love him?"

As quick as the flick of a light switch, Francis was back. He was smiling and had the same old happy sheen in his eyes. Bright and beautiful as ever.

"But of course! He is mon amour. How could I not?"

To Arthur this was a ridiculous question, making any interest he had been holding in this conversation drop. _'How could I not?'_ He'd asked. He even scoffed when it had been said. That was simple. You could fall out of love just as easily as you can fall in it, he tried to believe. Francis held too much faith in love in his opinion. He found himself drifting back to the paperwork that had been completely untouched for a while now. He felt a sting of frustration; he could've been much farther in the stack of paper by now. If Francis really wanted to help him, he would leave him in peace. "Feelings can change over time."

Despite how negative and heavy the words sounded coming from Arthur's mouth, Francis was still smiling and gushing as if his soul was the equivalent of a rainbow. It was almost creepy how happy he was- like an old stuffed animal or doll. He was glowing like the sun once more as the thoughts returned in his mind, making him feel like dancing beautifully and gracefully to the tune of old composers that time hasn't yet forgotten. Mozart might do the trick. Only problem was that he needed a partner... and Arthur didn't dance.

"Oui, but I still have a soft spot for him..."

At this point, Arthur wanted nothing more than to finish his papers and settle with a good book until nightfall came. None of his plans involved having Francis over. He had a feeling where this conversation would go, and it wasn't going to go well. He had to pray that Francis' head was enough like a balloon; hollow and filled with air- so that he wouldn't have to fill in his end of a bargain. Usually he would do it without hesitation, but this topic was a much tenderer subject.

"Well this visit was _lovely_... but I think you should go now. I must finish these papers so I can get a good rest."

Francis had known Arthur would try to skip out on his end of the bargain. He wasn't as dumb as Arthur seemed to think he was. He was a powerful, strong country. He had won many wars. He was no fool. A smirk slid onto his face and he spoke in a velvety, almost taunting voice.

"Non! You never told me like you said you would, mon cher~"

Arthur let out a sigh that seemed so long it could wrap around the earth. _'Great.'_ He knew he was as trapped as a starving mouse in front of a cheese loaded mousetrap.

"If it will get you to leave me be..."

At that, he was bombarded with petty _'pleases'_ and begging looks. Arthur watched the scene with discomfort. He knew he would give in soon. Once his face turned crimson and his emeralds latched onto a lamp instead of the Frenchman, he finally spoke; "Fine. It was...you. But as I said, _'was_ ', so no need to fret."

He couldn't believe his ears. Arthur had loved him before? He could feel his heart escaping its' birdcage, flying free now. But suddenly it found itself trapped in the cage once more. With locks on it now. _'Was.'_ He now found hatred for the word. It was all he could think about. _Why didn't Arthur like him anymore? What did he do wrong? Was he not good enough? Should he change himself so he and the Brit could live happily ever after?_ He had to know. _Had to._

"Why don't you like me anymore, Angleterre?" He asked, softly and laced with inconspicuous sadness.

Arthur couldn't see it. He had fixed his eyes on the lamp for that exact purpose. So he couldn't see it. He didn't want to see the disappointment he could feel in the gaze and hear in the Frenchman's voice. Francis tried to hide it, but he was terrible at it. He answered, plainly and simply," I told you, I learned my lesson. Now please leave."

Francis felt a spark of determination. He had to tell him how he felt. Even though he knew he was going to get shot down, every good captain goes down with his ship. He slid a smirk onto his face as if he were rolling marbles on ice.

"I never told you the name of the little boy who stole my heart ~..."

He knew it already. That was for certain. Emeralds came flying back over to the sapphires, burning with annoyance. It was clear. He growled quietly.

"I don't care. Leave."

Francis turned in a swift movement, looking as if he would obey his wishes. He didn't make eye contact as he said, "It was you, Angleterre."

Leaving him with those words, he began to exit the elegant building. He was silently cursing at himself. _Why had he been stupid enough to think this would work?_ It never worked for him. So why did he think Arthur would be any different? Because Arthur was Arthur. The young, stubborn kid. The brave, brooding pirate. The elegant British gentleman. He reached for the door, about to make his exit when he heard that familiar accented voice say,

"... Francis... "

Francis turned back around, staring at him. From the way Arthur looked to him, he seemed almost guilty about something. Maybe this was some sort of weird British joke. He let a smile creep back onto his face. His heart started beating too fast again. Far too fast. He let out a happy call of,

"Yes Angleterre~?"

Looking into his eyes, Arthur found it hard to say it. He saw how bright and hopeful they were. No matter how brash and rude Arthur could be, he felt sympathy in that moment. He could see his heart shatter, he could feel it. It was inevitable. Mind conflicted like the waves of the ocean during a storm, Arthur could barely get the words out of his mouth.

"... It'd be best if you dropped these feelings... "

The sound of shattering glass filled both of their ears, but there hadn't been a sound. What it had been was the sound that happy hearts falling apart held. Whole, to halves, to thousands, to merely dust. Francis' head nodded slightly.

"Oui... I have tried."

A slight, sympathetic smile was all he got in return. Arthur's choice of words had to be careful, for if he said it wrong, he would shatter the already broken once more.

"Well try it again. The feelings should leave eventually. Thank you for the visit Francis."

Not showing how deeply he had been wounded, as if putting his hands over the hilt of a blade to hide the stab wound, he gave a miniscule smile. He kept his voice as calm as he could, only slightly wavering through the words.

"Of course Angleterre, no problem."

The sound of footsteps grew faint as the once incandescent Frenchman left the home. Slumping in his chair, Arthur shook his head in a steady, slow rhythm. ' _Why'd Francis have to go and do this?'_ Guilt grew in his heart, but he dismissed it immediately. It had to be done. No matter how much it pained him. A loud slam of the table sounded as a fist met the aged wood. A small mutter of, "Idiot..." left his lips.

Hollow. That was how he felt. Like a jack-o-lantern on Halloween. He hid his hands inside of his pockets, sapphires glued to the pavement of which his feet were gliding. He knew this would happen. He knew he was going to get his heart shattered again. It had happened before, and he had gotten over it. But after, he realized he had always had something better. Much better. Now though? It was like a gunshot wound to the leg; disabling, and making him unable to live life the lips softly whispered small words as he made his way out of London.

"I can't believe I thought this would work for a second... "


	3. To Find A Scotsman In Paris

Sounds of footsteps could be heard on the old paved sidewalks, different than what he was used to. Usually walking around for him involved rain-soaked concrete and dark skies. Bright blue and splashes of white were above him, a vibrant golden orb breaking the two colored pattern of the sky. Like a painting, mornings in France were unique and beautiful. Even more so, if you happened to be in Paris. It wasn't home, not in the slightest. Confusing, bright... and unremarkably like it's human representative. Arthur had been wandering the streets for hours now, confused. He could navigate London without flaw but Paris, like Francis himself, was perplexing. If you stayed there long enough you would think you knew where you were going but then you'd lose yourself completely. That's how it was for Arthur anyhow. He looked frantic as he scanned the now seemingly familiar street.

"Bloody hell... wasn't I just here?"

 _~Line Break~_

Sapphire eyes lay downcast on the pavement, watching as his feet moved almost with a rhythm as he walked. It was a daily routine to go around Paris and take a walk. It was a bit unhealthy however, giving him time to dwell on his thoughts. It had been a whole week since he had visited the masterpiece that was Arthur. He knew he was still entranced with him, not a doubt in his mind. He had tried to get him out of his thoughts; tried busying himself. But nothing had worked. No matter what he tried or where he went, Arthur was like a curse he couldn't get rid of. Whether that curse was really a blessing in disguise or only just a curse plain and simple, he wasn't sure. The only thing he knew was that for the first time in his life, he was truly alone.

He walked past a few people on the street, not seeing their faces. A young woman with a child, an older woman donning expensive clothing, and a seemingly frustrated man grumbling to himself. Francis immediately stopped dead. He only knew of one person that could grumble in such a way. A wide grin slipped upon his face. _'Arthur was in Paris!'_ Even though the odds were against him, he couldn't help but wonder if he had come to see him. He immediately turned at the heel and caught up to the small male. He looked at the messy blonde hair that was on his face and the bright emeralds for eyes.

"Angleterre? Are you lost? It sure looks and sounds that way."

The emeralds turned to slits upon the sound of his voice, though he needed help navigating the town, it would be utterly embarrassing to be navigated by _Francis_ of all the people. _'In Paris no less!'_ It was also was dreadful luck, though used to that sort of fortune, to run into him. He still felt... uncomfortable around him. Ever since that visit he had been trying to avoid him at all costs, which hadn't been too hard... physically. But mentally he kept thinking about what Francis had said to him, every last word of it. Although he understood it, it lingered in his mind as if he hadn't, pestering him with the haunting words of _'It was you'._

At this point, there was no possibility avoiding him. His emeralds went to normal size as he said, "Oh. Frog... I'm fine. I just have to find the Scottish git. He said he'd be in the pub but he wasn't there."

Francis couldn't resist a small smirk of satisfaction and triumph upon hearing that. "Sounds like you were stood up. I have no clue where he could be, Rosbif."

Arthur couldn't resist making his emeralds fly in a circle. Of course Francis was thinking like that, but he should have known Scotland was his infuriating older brother. They had met before, most definitely. It seemed as if everyone on earth had met the loud mouthed, bad mannered red head. It was a marvel to him that they even shared the same DNA. He even requested to have it proved... twice. No matter what, he could never rid of him. He was like a shadow; always nipping at his heels. He, at that point, took it as some weird French joke, despite knowing better.

"What I meant to say was that brother dear had gone drinking and I was going to go fetch him before our flight leaves. But it seems he's stumbled his way into another bar."

Francis nodded slowly. Of course Arthur wasn't there to see him. Why would he? It took a moment for it to sink in, but he knew it would never happen. He had been told he didn't love him, and that was that. Plain and simple. Francis had to face the facts. Arthur wouldn't love someone like him in a million years. Not even to save his own life. Arthur would rather jump off of a cliff then ever pretend to say those three little words he had always wanted to hear.

Even so, it wouldn't hurt to help his best friend find his way. Painfully uncomfortable, yes, but it wouldn't hurt physically. Or at least, not worse than other things he had faced in the past... so he told himself. He forced a small smile.

"Ah. There are two more nearby. I could help you find him if you want, Angleterre."

The thought of accepting help from him, especially now of all times, made him sick to his stomach. He didn't want to talk to him, let alone spend a long time walking beside him. He was afraid Francis would try to bring _it_ up again. That was what he dreaded. He could see the horrifying scene now. Francis would be staring straight at him, slipping his slender but firm arms around his waist and inching his face closer and closer as he tried to kiss him. He shivered at the thought. Francis kissing him was the thing that would make this all beyond unbearable. He wouldn't have it. Everything was hard enough as it was. He waved his hand in dismissal to Francis, as a professor did to a student and began to walk off.

"No, no I'm perfectly fine on my own. Cheerio then."

A very amused smirk formed upon Francis' face as he watched Arthur flee the other way, inspecting him as if he were a hero watching a villain who was doomed to fail. However, inside it was all too complicated to be around him again. They had both been avoiding each other to prevent talking about... _'it'_. _'It'_ hung in the air. _'It'_ made everything so much harder to say and do. Yet _'it'_... wasn't always as complicated as they had made it out to be. Francis called out to the distant but not too much so British man.

"It is the other way Angleterre! Honestly, no sense of direction... "

Immediately Arthur had spun on his heels, turning the other direction. He felt a burning sensation, signaling that scarlet had overtaken his facial features. It was a striking contract to the bright emerald his now narrowed eyes beheld. He felt like he could roar like the mightiest of lions did, hoping to make the overly-clingy Frenchman go away. It was like trying to lift a thousand pounds- to be around him again, what with their previous conversation. He wished he could just continue on his way without a further word, but it was too late. He already let the thunderstorm in his throat roar once more. "Well pardon me for not being familiar with the land of the Frogs."

Francis let a bit of air flow through his lips to form what is commonly called a sigh. A soft one however. He debated letting him run off to who knows where. Arthur didn't care about him. He had no reason to help him. Frustration and the ill feeling that had settled in his belly at the thought however, made him decide against it. He may not be able to be the one Arthur's heart beat for or the one he would risk his last breath for, but that didn't mean he had to stop seeing to him. He had decided to settle with being his friend... but was that even an option anymore? Did he blow all of his chances already? Only time could tell.

But even if he didn't want Francis around, the Frenchman would follow him anywhere. He was like a puppy, overly clingy and easily disappointed. It wasn't like he'd be able to survive without seeing his grumpy face anyways. He knew already a life without at least being able to say "hello" to Arthur wasn't one he was willing to live. No matter how much it felt like being fired at ruthlessly by a machine gun. He called after the Brit in his typical velvety tone.

"At this rate you'll be getting lost and you'll be home later than you'd probably wish. If you stop being stubborn for just one moment and let me help you, then things would go much smoother, Angleterre."

That made him stop in his tracks. He did have to get home before it got too late, that being, time was farther ahead in France then in England at any rate. As much as he hated to admit it, Francis had made a good point. He wasn't a mental map of the land like Francis. He had no idea even where to begin. With a hefty sigh, he reluctantly agreed.

"... Fine... Mind leading the way?"

"But of course!" He replied. He skipped over to Arthur, a bit grateful that even though it was a bit unsettling they could sweep it under the rug for the time being and just get on with their lives... Francis wanted to at least be friends like they were before. He wanted to at least be able to bicker and criticize him and not worry and know he wasn't hurting Arthur's feelings (because seriously, Arthur didn't seem to care what anyone thinks about him). He didn't want this strange and even terrifying fake friendliness. He wanted things back the way they were. But if they had to be friendly until they could start acting like they used to, Francis would endure it for as long as it took. In his mind, Arthur was the ultimate prize and he would do anything to get him back. He led him to the first possibility, his feet playing tour guide as if they had walked that exact route a million times. "I haven't seen you in a while, Angleterre..."

A million different responses came to his mind. He could tell him that it was because it was the fact that it was all so... infuriatingly unclear between them now. He didn't know how to cope with it for a long time. He had spent their whole time apart trying to rid his mind of it. But... honestly, he couldn't say that. Imagine the reaction that would get. Despite the fact that even though he had left Francis up the creek without a paddle before, he couldn't do it again. Love was a complicated thing. He knew it wasn't easy to push feelings aside. He did so himself all the time. He decided to still tell the truth, not the whole truth, but truthful nonetheless.

"I could say the same for you. I've been busy. The whole referendum thing and whatnot. And yourself?"

What had he been doing? Well, Francis couldn't tell him; it was that simple. He didn't think Arthur could handle such heartbreaking news. It would change so much... much more than what had already been changed. He hated lying to Arthur, but he couldn't exactly just blurt it out either. Partial truth was what he had to work with. Unfortunately, the bittersweet twinge of sadness in his tone was unmistakable.

"Other than the occasional visit to see Matthew or the pub, not a whole lot has been going on. It's rather depressing."

The sorrow tone in Francis's usually cheery voice was enough for Arthur to send emeralds in his direction. Inside of those emerald was curiosity... and a hint of concern. In that moment, he had wished he hadn't been hiding in his home and had actually come to see him. From what he could tell, it could possibly be terrible. Usually he would try to be cheerful and strong no matter what hit him. Having to hear Francis say that word- it was unimaginable. _'Depressing.'_ But here he was, hearing him say it.

He raised one of his overgrown eyebrows before saying, "I don't see why you're depressed in the first place. Did something happen?"

 _'_ _Did something happen?'_ He could barely believe he was being asked that. Arthur should have known full well what was wrong! But he couldn't get mad, oh no. He was incapable, no matter how much he wished he could be at least a little miffed, he couldn't. He was shocked however. He could be very shocked. Sapphires that once shone in front of the whole world only seemed to give the aged concrete a show. Not the bright and flashy one he had usually showed like a jazz club. This was more like a heartbroken blues writer sitting with his guitar and a glass of whiskey.

"Non. Nothing has happened since my last visit. Just feeling a bit lonely sometimes... "

A sputter left his lips. _'Francis was lonely?'_ That was an insane and... rather inconceivable thought. How could it even be possible? Antonio and Gilbert _had_ to have been able to spend time with him sometime! Those two hung around him like Francis associated himself with flashy clothes! He was downplaying his concern however, for he was a man even more stubborn than the most stubborn of mules if he wanted to be. Why he was hiding it though? He didn't even know himself.

"You? You're the last person I'd think would ever be _'lonely'_. Why not go spend some time with Antonio and Gilbert?"

A small sigh escaped him at the thought, remembering the phone calls. They were sympathetic, but busy souls. This wasn't something they could get involved in, because he wouldn't tell them the whole truth of the matter either.

"Gilbert and Matthew have grown rather friendly and I'd rather not interfere with the good thing they have going by intruding on them with my being. Antonio is the same- always with Lovino. So I have pretty much no one, and no way in hell will I go see Alfred again..."

Arthur blinked his eyes in surprise, not expecting Francis to feel so negative towards the American. _'What has he done this time?'_ A rather stupid question, since he had seen firsthand that Alfred was capable of doing anything. He raised an overgrown brow.

"And why not? I'm sure the lad misses you."

His sapphires rolled like a pair of dice. He was trying to act relaxed on the outside, despite his sporadic insides.

"Tch. I owe him money. That's why I refuse to show my face."

A wide and almost arrogant smirk spread upon his face. Of course Francis owed him a bit of money. He could recall that Francis had lost a bet with Alfred one time not too far back, getting a call from both sides to be given views of what had happened.

"And? I doubt he'd bring it up. Take him to McDonald's and your entire debt will be cleared, I swear."

Despite the internal void the Frenchman had in his stomach, he let out a small chuckle. The statement had been all too true.

"Still. He doesn't exactly have free time either. Seems like everyone in the world has someone but me..." His words were somber; as somber as the night and as heavy as all of the world's greatest weights combined, but Francis didn't seem to feel the pressure. Eventually his feet had stopped leading him, and they had arrived at the first pub.

"Here is the first one."

The bright emeralds laid themselves on Francis in a subtle side-glance.

"I suggest you stay here then. If he's drunk... this may be a bit messy." With that warning, he was gone. It took a few very long minutes before Arthur appeared in front of Francis once more.

"He's not in there."

A sigh escaped him as his feet led himself as well as the Brit to yet another Pub to search. "Great. To the next one then."

He gave an internal wish that Arthur would forget about the previous conversation that they had been having before he entered the bar to search for the brash and highly judgmental Scottish man. However, Arthur picked the conversation back up right where Francis had slammed it on the ground.

"You know... if you're lonely, why not go to a bar or something? Meet new people. Humans aren't that bad."

Sudden harsh memories came to him in that moment from a time long ago. _'Her.'_ She had been taken away from him all too soon. She had ambitions, dreams... but she would never live them. She had been killed, ruthlessly and at a young age as well. _'Was it love he had felt for her? Maybe.'_ He never had been able to tell. She was ripped away before he could figure it all out. One thing was for certain; it added to his darkening day. Arthur was certainly the life of the party. And by that, he meant that he really wasn't helping the gloom in his already hardly distinguishable gut. He then said in a soft and regretful voice; "Well... I'd rather not get attached. We all know what happens if you get attached to someone with a much shorter lifespan then you..."

Arthur then felt a lump in his throat. Why had he worded it that way? He knew he screwed up by making Francis think of her. He wasn't so prideful as to not admit _that_. Feeling ashamed and once more immensely uncomfortable, he only replied,"... I understand... "

Just like that, things were silent. It was like their conversation had been a light switch, suddenly flicked off. The only sounds were their footsteps and the occasional string of people talking or laughing when they would pass by. There was a thick air that hung in the silence and followed the pair. It stayed with them for a long time, and neither met eyes for even a moment at all during. The thick air was harsh and dark, even though invisible. Eventually Francis spoke up once again, deciding not to let their whole trip be ruined over the conversation, and try not to think about such a time. He decided to pick up his pace a bit before finally speaking.

"How about yourself Angleterre? Anyone special in your life... currently?"

Arthur had been glad he spoke again, eager to get the large unsettling air away, but soured upon the second question he had been asked. He thought he had made it perfectly clear the day he had visited, but before he could snap at him he stopped himself. Francis had been through enough already it seemed.

"Of course not... As I've said, I'm done with those sorts of attachments." He decided to change the subject, not wanting to talk about it anymore than what had already been said

"... How about a cat? If you really want a companion, then why not get a pet?"

Francis gave a small hum, letting his mind play with the idea. It wasn't bad, not bad at all. In fact, it was actually a wonderful idea.

"I suppose a kitten isn't a bad idea. It'd surely bring me _some_ comfort in the pitiful state I'm currently in."

Annoyance and sympathy shone in the emeralds as they rested upon Francis once again. He secretly wondered just how deeply Francis had been affected by his rejection. He knew it would sting a little, but it wasn't the first time he had rejected him. Usually he bounced back with twice as much enthusiasm each time. Except for this time.

"There you go then. And stop being so dramatic, just because the others have someone to snog and all. I've been looking for a kitten as well actually... Though nothing has really caught my eye."

A tiny smile crept upon Francis's face. This was an opportunity to build back up their relationship. Become good friends once again until they could bicker 'til the cows came home like they used to. He quickly suggested, "Maybe we could search around together for one sometime then? Like I said I'm free for as long as I know of..."

 _'_ _Free as far as he knew of?'_ It didn't add up in Arthur's mind... was Francis just saying this so Arthur would, dare he even think about it, go on what could seem like a _date_ with him. He would have thought so and immediately said no, if there hadn't been friendliness and nothing else he could sense in the tone of which the other asked. But there had. Nonetheless, he questioned.

"Don't you have paperwork to do? A country to run?"

Francis gave a short nod, although he couldn't explain everything the way it was truthful, he found himself soon explaining to a good extent.

"Oui. But the paperwork doesn't take as long for me as it might for you. My country has nothing significant going on either, so my schedule is for the most part open..."

Deciding his story checked out, he agreed.

"Alright then. I'll call you when I'm free again... er... are we nearly there yet? I really have to find him before we miss our flight."

Sapphires met the sidewalk in front of them, seeing that they were starting to get close by the way his feet were leading, he said, "Oui. It should be around the next corner."

Once they had rounded the street corner, the Pub was before them. Although the building was nothing significant, it held promise. It had to be where the drunken red-headed Scotsman was hiding. His gaze drifted over to Arthur, their eyes meeting and causing him to give a small and uncharacteristically shy smile.

"Well here it is. Hopefully he is there."

For the first time in a long time, the British man gave Francis a genuine and grateful grin. Usually he didn't smile at anyone, especially Francis of all people, but he had really saved him in that moment. He was starting to think that it possibly wasn't so bad that he had ran into Francis after all.

"Thank you Francis."

No further words were spoken as Arthur headed inside to search for his brother. Francis, feeling quite satisfied in being able to make the other genuinely smile his way, and in turn exhausted, made a spin on his heels, and started to head home. A sudden slam erupted from the direction of the Pub, causing Francis to turn back towards it. Suddenly Sapphire met Emerald once more, for Arthur had returned, looking frantic.

"He's not in there either and we have-" He glanced at his watch. "- An hour before our aeroplane leaves for Wales."

Francis blinked his sapphires several times, bewildered, for he had thought for certain that the Scotsman had been in there.

"I have no clue as to where he could be. There aren't anymore pubs in the immediate area..."

Desperation was seeping out of him, clearly fazed and, surprisingly, a bit afraid for his sibling.

"Clubs then? Bars? Anywhere that serves whisky probably?"

Suddenly, he thought of a place. A club not far from where they were. He prayed internally with all of his might that he was there so Arthur didn't have to miss his flight and go searching all over for him. He began to walk once more, but at a more urgent pace.

"I can think of one club nearby... Hopefully he's there, otherwise you're in a bit of trouble..."

A low grumble came from his throat, eyes narrowed and overgrown brows furrowed. "This is the last time I'm letting him drag me to Paris on a whim."

Francis couldn't help but laugh just a bit at the sight of Arthur as he knew him, irritable as always. It sent his heart fluttering just a bit, forgetting about his strife and troubles, even if he knew it wouldn't last forever. It mesmerized him to no end, and it was most likely his greatest weakness, even more so now when he hated how much he was still falling for him.

"Why would he want to come here anyways? That's what I'm wondering..."

A simple shrug of his shoulders was what he had given as a response before he uttered; "That, I don't know. He kept mumbling about wine, the city, and being an idiot on the way here."

A rush of arrogance shot through him, causing him to give the widest smile he had on his face since he had left Arthur's house on the dreadful day.

"Well the wine and the city are both amazing~ I'm just surprised."

Despite his fear and eagerness to find his brother, he seemed to relax a bit once more, Francis being the person who always seemed to know how to do that to people. He looked around and for the first time since coming to Paris, enjoyed the scenery. The beautiful architecture, the wondrous nature, the warm wind carding through his hair. He was reluctant to say it, but it was hard not to enjoy all these things that France was known for.

"Well... it is lovely around this time of the year..."

The mood seemed to lift a bit and Francis' eyes got stars like crowned jewels on top of a Christmas tree. Envisioning the bright splash of colors resting just above a green hillside, he gave a long, dream-like sigh and said, "Oui. Very lovely. And the sunsets are the best. I like to sit atop a hillside and watch. The best sunset in the world..."

Arthur noticed the look in the other's eyes and gave a small laugh. His curiosity got the better of him, seeing that he had looked happier than he had all day. He found himself wanting to observe this sunset and decide just how lovely it was from his own perspective.

"Hmm... would you mind showing me on my next visit? For when I come over to look for kittens...?"

A squeal almost escaped his lips, the thought of Arthur wanting to see him personally for the first time practically ever driving him wild, but he held it in, settling for a smile instead.

"Absolutely. You haven't lived until you've seen this sunset... it's that magnifique~"

A club came into his view; a large gray brick building with small stained glass windows adorning different colors, barely leaking out some of the light from revealing it was still around noon. Disappointment settled in Francis' belly, for he had enjoyed spending time with Arthur once again. It hadn't been nearly as uncomfortable as he had imagined, well... besides a few parts.

"Here we are..."

His emeralds looked between Francis and the club, almost seeming conflicted for a shred of a second.

"Ah... I see. Well… Thanks again for the help. I'm pretty sure he's in there."

Sadness seemed to radiate from Francis in every way possible, but he forced himself to smile through the pain nonetheless.

"Of course Angleterre~ Any time..."

Suddenly, a guilty look glossed over the emeralds, causing Arthur to lightly nibble at his lip like a rabbit did a carrot. Then he spoke up; "Look, Francis... about your last visit-"

Before he could say more, he was interrupted by an earsplitting slam of a door. It revealed a gargantuan security guard holding Allistair in his arms, with a heavy scowl that not many could quite perfect. The guard tossed him to the side, causing him to land upon the sidewalk with a hard thump. He landed on his right arm, wincing as he stood up and gave a string of inaudible drunken words and curses to the guard. The emeralds widened as he viewed the scene. He spoke quickly; "Oh dear- anyways, thank you and I'll try to visit soon!"

With a wave goodbye, he was gone. He rushed to his brother's aid, who wasn't grateful whatsoever at being helped rise to a stand. He pushed the Brit away. Eventually he held his arm and glared at him, saying things that were even more inaudible than before. Francis waved in return, but he was already gone. How he felt was complicated; he felt on top of the world to be able to spend time around Arthur despite the underlying pain and misery it all beheld... but he felt lower than the Marianna Trench because of the fact he was gone all too soon.

The walk back home seemed longer without someone to chat to, especially if they hadn't been his beloved British Gentleman, but his thoughts seemed to keep him company. _'What was Arthur going to say?'_ He hadn't a single clue. If only Scotland hadn't interfered... maybe, just maybe he would have known...


	4. Another Day On The Streets Of Paris

, **A/N: This chapter contains a Trigger Warning.**

One week had passed since the last time the two had seen each other. In that week of separation, both sides had been eager to see each other once more. Arthur had tried to forget the awkward encounter they had a while back, focusing on keeping their friendship intact. The emerald eyed Brit was admiring a large structure in front of him, and that structure was the pride and joy of French citizens. What was it? The infamous Eiffel tower. His hands were resting in the pockets of his pants while he observed it, letting his mind roam as he did so. Suddenly he remembered that he had to call Francis. He pulled out his cellphone and dialed his number, continuing to take in the beauty of the amazing architecture.

The Frenchman had been out, passing by the many stores and buildings on the streets. He had been looking for clothing, for he always felt the need to grab a new outfit, no matter the circumstances. He knew he was approaching the Eiffel tower, which was the pride and joy of France. Fondness grew in his eyes as the structure came to view, its presence and beauty overtaking him. A soft hum escaped his lips, making him just stare at it for a while. He heard the sound of a few harp strings being played, and knew his cellphone had started going off. The screen told him that it was Arthur who was calling, and all though he hated himself for it, he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope. When he heard the heavily accented greeting, he snapped himself back into place. He remembered that he would never have a chance, but masked his underlying sadness with a deceptively cheerful tone of voice.

"Bonjour Angleterre~ How are you?"

Taking strides closer to the Eiffel tower, Arthur couldn't resist raking over the structure with his gaze. A tiny grin graced his face as he responded, "I've been well enough. What about yourself, frog?"

A sting of pain surged through him at the nickname, hating it with every fiber of his being. It made him hesitated for a moment, trying not to let his hurt seep into his voice.

"Same as the last time we spoke."

The emeralds Arthur had, went tumbling in a full circle and a sigh left his lips.

"Oh come on. Keep talking like that and you might just die of alcohol poisoning."

Yet another sting of hurt ran through him at those words, forcing himself to smile so he didn't react in the way he felt appropriate.

"Right. Anyways what causes you to call, Angleterre?"

He hummed softly, emeralds starting to just slightly glint brighter as his feet carried him closer and closer to the large and beautiful edifice. Now underneath the tower, the emeralds took it all in. Envy started to prickle through him. His own Big Ben was remarkable as it was, yet he longed for something like this in England. He couldn't deny the pure awe he felt.

"I might be in Paris for the week..."

Joy seeped into him, overjoyed that Arthur had come to visit him once more. Maybe their friendship was starting to heal after all! He gave a soft chuckle once he spoke.

"Really? I don't suppose you have a drunken Scottish man with you this time, hm?"

A snort left Arthur at that, not wanting to relive that fiasco once more.

"No, I think Allistair still has a hangover from last time. No Scottish man and no pending paperwork."

Being friends and being able to be alone again without it being awkward was all that Francis seemed to want. The smile that was on his face only grew at his words.

"That's nice. So where are you? I could be anywhere in Paris in pretty much no time."

Emeralds were still absorbing the structure, still standing almost directly under the enormous and breathtaking monument.

"Right underneath the Eiffel tower actually."

He could barely believe those words, gaze flicking over to the Eiffel tower within an instant.

"Non really? I'm in front of it as we speak! Talk about a coincidence..."

One of his amazingly thick eyebrows slid up his face, a bit surprised the coincidence. "Oh? Where are you exactly? I can't see you."

He left from where he was underneath the tower, walking out to the other side of it. Emeralds scanned for the sight of the Frenchman, wondering where exactly could he be. Little did he know that he had his back turned to him, and that he was right beside him. He was completely oblivious to his presence, which Francis in turn, found hilarious. He chewed on his lips just slightly to stop himself from laughing. He lowered his voice so it was barely still able to be heard though the phone.

"I'm closer then you may think, mon cher~"

The emeralds then flicked all over the place, confusion flooding over him at the lowering of his voice. Why had he lowered his voice? It all seemed odd to him and he didn't enjoy it.

"Where the bloody hell are you?"

He then felt fingers tapping on his shoulder, and immediately spun around with a scowl. He gave a startled jump and a soft squeak, now rather confused as to where he was. He let a soft smirk slide onto his face.

"Haha very funny. I'm guessing you can see me?"

He climbed out from his hiding place, laughing softly. "Oui. You are a lot closer then you may anticipate."

Once again Arthur's shoulder was tapped, but he hadn't hid from him this time. He turned again to see the grinning face of the personification of the very country he was in. He let out a soft scoff before giving a lax and almost playful smile.

"You could have walked over sooner. Or did you enjoy watching me walking around like an idiot?"

Immediately a laugh escaped the lips of the Frenchman. "Oui I did. You looked ridiculous, mon ami."

Arthur lightly punched the other's shoulder, finding his humor... well, not funny in the slightest.

"Bloody frog. Well, I am here as promised. What did you want to do first?"

"You are my guest, so you can choose, mon ami~"

His concerns for Francis had started to slowly resurface. No matter how hard it was for him to continue to be his friend after the confession, he knew he had to be. Not only for the good of the Frenchman, but for his own good as well. He let his lips curl up slightly.

"I was hoping we could get you that kitten? Something to lessen the chances of wine overdose."

His heart fluttered wildly in his chest at the fact that Arthur cared about him. It made him feel significant... but only for a few moments. His insecurities and the fact that there was no chance stabbed at his chest where the fluttering was, like a man with a grudge against him taking a knife to his heart. To save face, he threw a smile in by force.

"Sure, why not? There is a pet store not far from here."

The Brit gestured for him to go first. "Alright then. Care to lead the way?"

Leading the way as the other told him, he felt something itch in his mind. It bothered him to the point where it was hard to dismiss. He thought of the last time the two had met, when Arthur was about to talk about the time he had confessed. _'What was he going to say?'_ He wondered. His rationality told him not to ask, for Arthur was a man known to lose his mind at any moment. He let out a slight and reluctant sigh before saying, "I noticed you wanted to say something before you found the Scotsman in the pub last time we talked. What was it you wanted to say?"

As he fell in beside the other, his eyes widened at the question. He let a small and almost...nervous sounding chuckle leave him and said, "Hm? Ah that... I forgot to be honest."

Noticing their eyes hadn't met, Francis knew this sounded a bit off. He shook the feeling away, too wrapped up in his own frustration and curiosity to really ponder it.

"Oh. Alright. Anyways, how has your country been? Have you been busy?"

A shrug of the shoulders by Arthur was followed by a short overview. "Not much has changed. Scotland is staying, thank the heavens. He doesn't seem thrilled about it however."

A frown formed on his face as he thought about it, before he shook his head. "What about you? Anything interesting happen while I was gone?"

A million things had happened since Arthur had last seen him, it seemed. Instead of bothering Arthur with all of it, he just simply said, "Nothing too major. Besides a few strikes and some other things. Otherwise nothing has changed. My boss blames me for some reason as always..."

A loud scoff left Arthur's lips at that, being bothered by the incompetence of Francis's current government official.

"He can't seem to grasp that our people control us, not the other way around." A soft hum escaped him as he remembered hearing something while he had been on the streets of London just a few days before.

"I heard they were taking the love-locks down from the bridge. I'm sorry to hear that. They were getting too heavy for the bridge, right?"

Sapphires hit the ground as he gave a slow nod of his head.

"Oui, too heavy after being there after so long. It is a tragedy. But old things must die out eventually, right?"

As Francis thought over the last sentence he had said, an awkward silence hit the air like a bat did to a baseball. It didn't last long, being broken by Arthur as emeralds landed on the other.

"Well... how about instead of throwing the locks away, you lot could put them up somewhere else? Put up a place just for them, like a big fence maybe? Near the Seine so they could still toss the keys there?"

With just a blink, a wide grin worked its' way onto Francis's face. That was a brilliant solution!

"That it a wonderful idea! I just might do that, thank you Arthur!" He praised.

Despite not wanting to, a grin found its' way on Arthur's face as well. Emeralds rolled, trying to make it seem like he didn't care his advice had been taken even though he did feel a bit of joy sprouting within him at making the other happy. "Whatever, it was just an idea..."

The long haired blonde was about to open his mouth to say more, but their destination had been reached. "Well, it looks as if we are here mon cher."

As the two observed the structure, a wave of surprise hit Arthur. The Pet Shop was small and modest; a nice relaxing greyish-blue tone covering the walls. There were only a few windows and a small door. To Arthur, this seemed like a place Francis would never willingly set foot in his life. When emeralds met the other again however, he could sense that he actually seemed to have no problems with being nearby the quaint little building whatsoever. The pair walked into the Pet Shop, and were met with an image of a well-kept establishment, animals in cozy little enclosures and an interior as inviting and tame as the outside.

They spent about an hour roaming around the place, much to Arthur's horror and Francis's fascination. He glances around at all of the animals, wanting to make sure they were all well-kept even though it was clear that they were. Eventually they finally found themselves by the area where kittens had been. Arthur had noticed all different breeds, patterns and colors of cats that had been there. Francis, who had been ahead of him suddenly stopped. Something had caught the interest of the sapphires, and the emeralds followed the gaze to be met with yet another creature. It was a beautiful white cat with a coat as pure as a snow storm in Toronto and eyes as clear and blue as the ones that belonged to the man standing before it.

A connection was felt between the Frenchman and the fluffy feline, with Arthur not able to help but feel slight affection for it as well. Kneeling down, Francis pet the cat from between the bars of the cage that contained it and for the first time in a while, felt true happiness filling his heart. When the sapphires met the Emeralds again, Francis asked Arthur in a slightly cheerful voice, "Isn't this cat the cutest, Angleterre~?"

He gave a simple nod. "It is a very nice cat, and the two of you seem to be a matching pair. I can see the similarities already."

With a soft laugh, Francis announced, "It is settled then, I will get this one~!"

Arthur sighed in relief at that, thinking they had spent way too much time there already. Once they had left the shop, the little cat wrapped himself around the back of Francis's neck and over his shoulders, much like a feather boa or something similar. He had noticed that the two shared a connection earlier, but now he could tell that they seemed to be close in more ways than the one. Their personalities seemed to be similar as well, though he kept in mind that the cat would of course be lazier. He was glad that it wasn't human; he could barely handle one of France, let alone two. A small laugh escaped him as he continued to keep his mind on it. Eventually they had made their way to Francis's home, to drop the cat off and get him a head start on learning of his new environment.

As soon as they stepped through the white washed oak door, Francis started making a mad dash around the house to prepare things for the cat. He pulled out a purple satin pillow for the cat to lounge on, and laid out two bowls for the cat to eat out of and drink from. He continued to go around and around like that for a considerable amount of time. Arthur sat idly by and watched it all, slightly amused by the whole thing. Feeling his gentlemanly side kick in, he said, "Would you like some help Francis? You've been prancing about like an antelope for the past several minutes."

The excessive running around stopped for a moment as he replied, "That would be wonderful, merci Angleterre."

A soft laugh escaped him. "No problem. We wouldn't want you passing out from exhaustion, now would we?"

He shrugged his shoulders just slightly, "I suppose you're right. But still, merci."

After a long while, the two had made a make-shift paradise for the cat. They made sure there was food and a nice bowl of cream ready, and a litter box was set up as well (they had bought it at the store). Then, the Frenchman flitted over to the kitchen, opening up a fair sized drawer. He pulled out a ribbon the color of the fresh spring grass, tying it loosely around the cat's neck and creating a bow. To Arthur, this was a crime against Mother Nature. He shook his head in disapproval.

"You just had to torture the poor thing by forcing him to wear a bow, didn't you?"

A soft laugh escaped Francis. "It isn't torture, it's making him look fabulous! Look, he even likes it!"

Sure enough, the cat was prancing around like a runway model as he explored his new home. All Arthur could do was scoff.

"He reminds me all too much of you."

His heart warmed at the fact that Arthur was comparing him to the beautiful and majestic feline on the floor. Like every other time however, it was ruined after a moment.

"Really? Well, this kitten is going to show the feline world what true fabulousness is!"

All he could do was scoff at that, shaking his head lightly in disapproval like he so often did. He found the emeralds flicking over to the drawer that had the ribbon in it. It had been left open. He assumed that Francis hadn't noticed it was left open and decided to close it for him. However, he only took one step towards it before Francis rushed passed him and closed the drawer. It almost seemed as if he were keeping something from him, and Arthur didn't like it. The only thing he said was, "Are you hiding something from me?"

Immediately he shook his head and plastered on a fake smile like a festival mask.

"What? Non, there is nothing I am hiding. I just wouldn't want to bother you by having you close a simple drawer for me when I could easily do it myself."

Sensing something was definitely amiss, his eyes narrowed. He honestly wouldn't doubt that Francis had lied to him. It wouldn't be the first time and most likely was not the last. Even though the curiosity and the concern for him had flooded his senses, he didn't pry. He just wanted to move past it.

"Whatever. Anyway, what is the next thing we planned to do?"

Restraining a sigh of relief, Francis grinned as softly as a pillow and spoke, "I was going to show you the sunset, remember?"

How could he forget? It had been on his mind the whole time he had been working all those weeks in London. He had needed something relaxing, for the abundance of paperwork was slowly rotting his brain from the inside out. When he had been told of the so called beautiful sunset, he found himself longing more and more to go the more confined he was. Despite the fact it sounded far too... romantic for it to be casual, he had still wanted to go and said, "Indeed, I remember. Now, go and show me this sunset that you claim to be so striking."

With a soft smile, Francis replied. "Follow me, and I can take you to see it."

The pair walked a long distance, but that seemed meager in comparison to how long it had actually felt. Once they traveled, they arrived at a large hill. It was laden with all kinds of flowers of many different colors and species. Francis ushered for him to sit at the top, like he himself had done while Arthur had been checking out the scenery. Once he had fully gotten comfortable on the hill, there was a beautiful view of the city and the soon to be sunset. In just minutes, the sky lit up with beautiful explosions of orange, yellow, violet and a dark pink.

The blindingly bright yellow orb that was the sun started to descend. Francis could feel his heart hammering in his chest at the closeness the two had. He was right there, in a barely comfortable distance apart. He had to force himself not to react, for if he hadn't, he would have done something that could have shattered their friendship beyond repair. The sapphires noticed how the emeralds reflected in the light of the beautiful late evening sky, and it only made it more unbearable. _'How could Arthur be even more beautiful and breathtaking than the sunset?' 'How could he be more interesting and be even more of a wonderful display of the Earth Mother's unending talent?'_

He may never get an answer to the question that had burned in his mind his whole life. In that moment, the emeralds and sapphires met again, and a voice with a heavy British accent broke the silence.

"Well you were right. That was a magnificent sunset indeed. I must admit, I'm fairly jealous you get to see this all the time."

In his mind, he had just been given the best compliment ever achievable. Arthur called his country magnificent, and that meant he was calling Francis magnificent as well.

"I am very lucky to have such beauty in my land, but there are parts of your land I find more beautiful."

The emeralds quickly darted away from Francis, finding it hard to keep eye contact with such a praise. Even though he knew Francis loved him, he couldn't take the comment seriously. It was hard for him to believe it because he knew he was the center of dreary weather and even more dreary food. Many times before, Francis had claimed that he disliked everything that belonged to the Brit's country and now he was claiming the opposite. It was extremely awkward for him to think about, so his only reply was, "Right. Like the gray skies and the constant rain."

Thinking he had been serious, Francis replied, "Well, those are pretty nice, but I admire the old charming feel of London."

To avoid having himself say or do anything that was stupid or that would hurt Francis's feelings, he quickly changed the subject with as much smoothness as he could muster.

"Well thank you, but I do think we should be heading back to your home. I hope I'm not imposing on you by giving you such short notice for staying in your house for the week..."

A warm smile flashed his way as the wavy haired blonde replied.

"Don't worry Arthur; I am perfectly fine with it. You may stay over whenever you please."

With those words, they began their journey back to the illustrious home that belonged to Francis. Once there, he prepared the guest room for him, getting out pillows and blankets for his use and setting a few of each on the dresser, incase Arthur was in need of more. While that was being done, Arthur silently made his way into the kitchen, channeling the stealth of an undercover agent. He still was curious about the drawer. _'What was inside of it?'_ Why was Francis trying to hide it from him? He knew the only way he could find out would be to sneak into the kitchen and see for himself.

He eventually made it, and opened the drawer without hesitation. What was in it was a collection of green and blue ribbon wheels, cookware, and knives of different sizes. One of these knives had just a light tint of a deep red, but it was so barely noticeable that he hadn't spotted it. The only rational reason his brain could come up with was that Francis was overprotective of his cookware. It was obvious that Francis's one true passion was cooking and he never seemed to trust Arthur in his kitchen. Footsteps sounded from where the guestroom was on the second floor and in panic, he closed the drawer quickly so he wouldn't be caught. He quickly tip-toed into the living room just as Francis had come down the stairs, giving him a look that was clear that he had finished up making up the bedroom for good. Arthur threw him a deeply grateful smile.

"Ah good. Thank you again Francis. I appreciate this."

He hadn't suspected a thing, speaking to the Brit.

"As I said before, it is my pleasure to have you here. Goodnight, Arthur."

Only giving a nod as a response, Arthur slowly made his way up the stairs and into the room. He opened his luggage, which had previously been dropped off there, and put on an outfit that qualified well enough as pajamas for the male- a plain t-shirt and his boxers. Settling underneath the warm and cloud soft blankets, he slowly closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. Back downstairs, Francis had made sure that the door was closed and all was quiet before starting to slink off to the kitchen. When he arrived, he opened the drawer eerily slow, so it wouldn't make a noise.

Rolling up the sleeves on both his right and left arms, the sapphires dulled significantly. He felt the blinding pain in his heart had returned. Despite how much he had made it seem like he'd been cured in front of Arthur, it actually had been getting worse and worse. The once proud Frenchman was dooming himself, his country, and his citizens. All because just a while ago, Arthur had shattered his heart without intention. Now revealed were his scar laden wrists, some more fresh than others, though most were new. His body shook just slightly as he reached for the only slightly stained knife, letting the sapphires scan over it for a moment. His whole body craved for the new slice, it called to him in soft whispers, ushering him on to do it again and again.

 _'Bleed out your pain, let the anguish flood out.'_ It serenaded. Just as the blade hovered less than an inch from the skin, his more rational side drowned out the foul calls. It said to him in a hushed tone; _'Don't do this. If Arthur saw you right now, it would break him.'_

The sinful calls tried to persuade him that Arthur wouldn't have cared, but the rationality had won him over this time. He couldn't bring himself to do this while Arthur could still see it. Before he could change his mind, the blade was placed gently back into the drawer. Slowly it closed, as the light came back to the sapphires. Francis headed up the stairs to grant his brain a rest from the long day.


	5. Wake Up Call

**A/N: I do not own the song "On my Own". It is from the musical Les Miserables.**

 **Disclaimer: Trigger Warning**

The first lights of the morning started to flit through the windows, and speckles of brightness slowly trickle into the guest room. The speckles contrasted greatly against the dark gray tone of the walls of said room, but it certainly did bring a bit of much needed light to the tiny space. The Brit was resting comfortably on his side, gently grasping a pillow that was almost a pure white, except for the speckling of the neon green flecks.

The pillow had once been beside him instead of now tightly in his grasp. His body lay underneath a set of sheets and blankets that were identical in appearance to the pillows, which all sat upon a cloud-like mattress. He was peaceful looking, having a face similar to child when resting. It was one of the only times he could get away from the strife and trouble of the harsh reality he lived in. He was dreaming of a land where he could be with his imaginary friends and not have to worry about Francis, or any other people, much less talk to them. He would never admit it, but as much as he wanted a life like that, he didn't at the same time.

It would be fairly lonely, even if he were accompanied by Flying Mint Bunny. An ear piercingly loud ringing filled his ears and invaded his once pleasant dreams, letting out a groan and rubbing his clearly tired eyes. He would need some tea later; that was for certain. He grabbed at the phone on the side table almost blindly, slowly raising it to his ear. A soft yawn escaped him and he said, "Hello?"

On the other end of the phone, there was a sky eyed American, who had awoken extremely early for this occasion. He didn't seem cheerful, as most saw him however. Practically scowling, he let out an irritable accusation of, "Why did you tell him that?"

Even if it hadn't been the very crack of dawn, Arthur still wouldn't have known to what he was referring to. His eyebrows furrowed just lightly, confusion shooting through him like a bullet

"Told who, what exactly?"

A loud huff came from the other line, clearly irritated. He hadn't thought about the time difference, and really he wouldn't have cared much anyway

"Told Francis that you didn't love him! Why did you do that?"

The only response he had gotten from Arthur was, "It's too early in the morning for this..."

Alfred had been unusually furious about this, for reasons Arthur didn't know. The true reasoning for this was that he hated to see this go on. Francis was a loving man, who had treated everyone with kindness, when war and politics weren't involved. He always thought of him as family, really. But it was even more than that as well. What was it? It was that he had experienced such pain before.

Separation from a person he loved, never telling them, and the many, many lonely nights he had spent in sorrow. He knew Francis would be experiencing it as well, and he simply wouldn't stand for it. Huffs escaped the American's lips before he replied.

"You're a real piece of work, breaking his fragile heart like that."

Now he was wide awake. Alfred didn't speak much of Francis's behalf, especially not on matters of the heart, and to him it was an extreme shock.

"What was I supposed to do? Lie to him?"

A sound of a fist slamming itself against a standard popcorn-textured wall sounded through the cellphone, ringing through the phone connection.

"When are you gonna stop lying to yourself and everyone else?"

At this point his inner lion was unleashed, cranky from the early hour, and fierce due to his usual nature. He wished the matter could be dropped entirely; he was having a hard enough time glancing in Francis's direction. It hurt to see how sad he was when he allowed it to shine in the sapphires- hated to see him force a smile upon his face when he clearly wasn't joyous in the slightest.

"I'm not-"

"You should have heard Matthew when he came over to my house a few days ago. He said he had gone over there to see how Francis was doing and he was drunk out of his mind! Even more than the time when you stole Mattie away from him! He was afraid he was just gonna keep drinking and drinking! The worst part was that he was crying- crying his eyes straight out of their sockets because all he's done his whole life is been in love with you! Even when he had Jeanne, he knew it wasn't gonna work because she was human and basically an old timey nun anyway! Guess what? He's dying inside because he can't get you off of his mind enough to be himself anymore! Why can't you just tell him the truth Arthur?!" He demanded an answer at that point, practically spitting with furiousness. Voice sharp, fists clinched, he had definitely meant business, not willing to buy into Arthur's lies.

Arthur was suddenly speechless, truly speechless for one of the rare times in his life. The whole time he had been blind to just how big the scars were that had implanted themselves in Francis's heart. He was far worse than he would have ever guessed on his own, and knew it wasn't going to get much better. He chewed on his lip in nervousness and whispered, "He's really that upset...?"

There was no one on the other line any longer. Alfred had hung up while the Brit had still been trying to comprehend it all. _'Silent.'_ More silent then the dead of the night. He stayed like that for a long time. His mind was fogged with confusion on what he should do and say, and where he should go. After the countless hours of deliberating, he rested his head slowly into the palms of his hands.

* * *

Francis had awoken at the same time as Arthur, unaware of the news he had discovered. Last night he found himself tossing and turning every opportunity he got, not able to sleep in the slightest bit of peace. No pleasant dreams had graced him for a long time. Sitting straight up on the silken blankets and sheets, he wiped his puffy eyes. Why did he force himself to suffer? He would never know the answer. In the middle of the night he had grown hopeless, losing his control.

His arms were littered with regret and despair. Scarlet oozed from his once flawless skin, and he heavily sniffled as the sapphires looked up at the ceiling. No matter how grand his house, his city, or country was, it was no mystery to the citizens that the economy was suffering. To most, it was an unexplainable phenomenon, for life had been normal just weeks before. It was blamed on the banks. But Francis knew the truth, of course. _'Those cuts.'_ Those were his downfall. He knew this would happen if he did this, and he simply no longer cared.

A pain filled heart no longer cared what was happening around him, as long as it could retreat from get out of its' misery. Hiccupping left his lips as he broke down once more.

"Look at you... you used to be beautiful. You lost your sanity... you lost your life. Why does he affect you so? Is it his good looks... his secretly kind heart...? Is it that... he's always been there for you? You just found out the truth, and you lost yourself."

He looked into a nearby mirror. "You let yourself fall in love again after you promised you wouldn't. You were supposed to stop. You brought this pain upon yourself, so quit it and be a man..."

Footsteps resounded in the hallway, though Francis hadn't heard them. He closed his eyes just as emeralds peered from behind the doorframe. He was twitching, running his hands over his littered arms and letting a heavy breath leave his lips in a soft and lengthy manner. He felt an overwhelming urge to let his sorrows release from him, and he remembered a play Arthur and himself had gone to many times. But he would not forget the first time.

The year was 1985. Arthur had requested that he fly to London to see a musical that had just come to his country. Of course, considering the original to be French, and based upon a classic piece of literature from his country, he had seen it several before. This would be his first time seeing it in English. But since Arthur had his heart set on it, and his emeralds had been boring into his soul, he knew he could never say no to him. They had gone to see Les Misérables in London, which brought back many memories from those times. He promptly told Arthur that he owed him for reliving those events and making him feel so heartbroken, though he was honestly kidding. To that, he got only a soft laugh and a punch on the shoulder. So why not sing something that reminded him of a moment where his forbidden love was at his side? Music was his last chance at therapy.

He began softly, sapphires revealing themselves filled with liquid regrets.

 _"On my own, pretending he's beside me._

 _All alone, I walk with him 'til morning._

 _Without him, I feel his arms around me…_

 _And when I lose my way, I close my eyes,_

 _And he has found me...~"_

From where the British man had been watching from the doorway, the emeralds grew in size and surprise flew through him like a bullet. He stung all over, feeling almost like he had a rash. He had caused this. Alfred had been correct, and at the sight of his cuts he wanted to break the door in half and shake the stupidity out of him. But he held back, not wanting to disturb this potential process of healing.

 _"In the rain the pavement shines like silver,_

 _All the lights are misty in the river._

 _In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight,_

 _And all I see is him and me forever and forever..._

 _And I know it's only in my mind,_

 _That I'm talking to myself and not to him…_

 _And although I know that he is blind,_

 _Still I say, there's a way for us…"_

His breath shook as he continued into the confession of which he knew would always be rejected.

 _"I love him, but when the night is over, he is gone._

 _The river's just a river. Without him, the world around me changes._

 _The trees are bare and everywhere, the streets are full of strangers...~"_

He looked at the mattress, sniffling and collapsing against it, fully sobbing out between lyrical stanzas, seeming to lose control over himself.

 _"I love him..._

 _But every day I'm learning, all my life,_

 _I've only been pretending!_

 _Without me, his world will go on turning._

 _A world that's full of happiness,_

 _That I have never known!"_

His eyes dulled and he sighed.

 _"I love him..._

 _I love him..._

 _I love him…_

 _But only on my own. ~"_

Once he had finished, his shaking stopped. Arthur's breath hitched at that, bursting through the door and nudging his shoulder. He didn't respond to the nudge, and for a moment, Arthur panicked. Then Francis gave a sharp gasp and the sapphires met the emeralds weakly

"Angleterre... I'm so sorry I'm not good enough." He gave a smile, and gently reached up to caress his cheek, though his arm could barely handle it, for he had grown weak

"I hope you will be happy one day without me. Whoever it is your heart desires… deserves you more than I."

Shaking his head violently, Arthur bristled.

"Francis... why the bloody hell did you do this?! What was going through your head? You really thought I want you to do this to yourself? Did you really think this was the only way...?"

No response and the sapphires were greying.

"Francis!"

His eyes closed again, and his breathing was lessening.

"Take... good care of my people..."

A grunt escaped him as he lifted him into in his arms, finding he was lighter than he had anticipated. Wasting no time, he took him to the hospital, seeing his breathing was growing shallower than a kiddie pool. Tears prickled in his eyes, stinging more than a million mosquitoes.

"Well done, old chap... look at what you did..."

Francis's sapphires were no longer visible, hidden behind a set of eyelids. He had drifted to a dream like state, still gently breathing. Arthur shook his head and wiped away the prickling tears, shaking violently as he drove. He parked in front of a large white building, frantically carrying him inside. His nerves were more frazzled than hair that hadn't been brushed in three weeks, and he usually wasn't easily shaken. Usually he was as solid as concrete. A nurse had to force him into the waiting room, keeping a close eye on him in case he tried to go see Francis while he was being checked out. He hated that he was doing this, but he dialed Alfred's number.

This time, Matthew was with him, watching over Alfred's shoulder as he snapped, "What could you possibly want, Artie?"

He was more shaken than a milkshake, shivering and trying to get a hold of himself. He explained it all, from the emotional musical number to being forced into the unattractive waiting room by the still watchful nurse. Alfred and Matthew were in tears by the end.

"I told you! And now it's your fault that he's gotten this bad! I hope you feel satisfied with yourself, because if he dies-"

" _EVER_ suggest that again and I will personally gut you myself, Alfred! I know I made a massive mistake; I don't need you of all people to rub it in my face. Bring Antonio and Gilbert with you down to the hospital, you twerp!"

He hung up and held onto himself. He wondered in Francis had sang because of that day they had spent together, along with the fact that was his favorite musical on earth. He couldn't have known he was there. He could barely even see through the crack in the door. It wasn't possible for Francis to see him in return.

 _'Was it?'_

Those thoughts were dismissed when after an hour, the nurse returned.

"You may see Monsieur France now."

He moved faster than he thought was even possible, bursting through the door. He wouldn't have noticed if he knocked it off of its hinges, rushing to Francis' bedside. He looked peaceful for once. It was mortifying. Unnerving. The emeralds shook with emotion- anger for causing all of this, sadness that he could no longer hear his voice and see his sapphires for... who knows how long. It was Arthur's turn to break down. He wept. He wept more than he had ever thought possible in one sitting. He wept even more than he did on the day of the American Revolution.

After many hours of silence had been thrown out the window, he gently grabbed at Francis' hand. It felt colder than he had imagined, but that didn't matter. He gently intertwined their fingers like a woven basket, letting out a lengthy and haunted breath.

"I'm sorry I made you do this..."

He stayed like this until Alfred, Matthew, Antonio, and Gilbert had arrived. The Canadian almost fainted at the sight of Francis' bandages that were blotted with blood. Alfred had been horrified as well, but narrowed his eyes at Arthur, drilling holes into the back of his head. Antonio and Gilbert both went deathly pale at the sight of their best friend like this. Gilbert shook his head slowly.

"Nein... he-...he would have told us! We could have helped him!"

"That's right, you could have." Alfred snapped, his sky colored eyes lighting on fire.

"If Arthur hadn't been hanging around him! He made everything worse by trying to become his 'friend' again."

A deep breath escaped him, one of frustration that could flood the Atlantic Ocean. "Shut your mouth Alfred... you don't know why I did all of this."

There was an edge in the room, and Alfred forcibly turned Arthur to face them.

"Really? Well, care to enlighten us, murderer?"

There was silence for a moment, before he whispered, "Long ago, I had always wanted something I could depend on. For a long time, I assumed everyone on Earth hated me, and it wasn't exactly false. Then I found out about this brand new country where all of my citizens were traveling to, and I met a young boy. At the sight of him, I knew he was a person I was looking for. A little child I could take care of and raise all on my own. I thought that out of it, I could gain someone I could talk to, and a brother that actually loved me. For the longest time, I hoped that he would always be mine... and we could be the best of friends. I could count on him and he could count on me."

"But... after returning from a long trip, I noticed he had changed. He said he was leaving, no matter how much I protested. I didn't want to let him go so badly I was willing to fight him. Francis fought against me, and having two people I loved with every bit of my heart... just... treat me this way hurt me deeply. And once you were both gone, I grieved."

He looked at Alfred. "That war is the reason I never let anyone into my heart again. Not truly. Because all I do is get hurt. I lost my mother at a young age, my brothers all hate me, I lost you, and I thought I lost Francis a long, long time ago! When he told me he loved me, I didn't want to get hurt again. I certainly didn't think he would react that way. I wanted to make up for it, because I was hurting too! All I could see was his heart broken face! Even in my sleep! I was hoping that I could get over him after all this time, and yet here I am! You wanted me to say it, well here it is! _I love him! I love him with every single fiber of my being and I hate that even though I was trying to protect him, he's hurt!_ _Are you satisfied Alfred?!"_


	6. Fallen Friend

The room had fallen dead silent, with the exception of the constant monotone beeping of the heart monitor. By the way Francis looked; it was their only assurance that Francis was still alive. His chest just scarcely moved up and down in slow and almost reluctant movements. The sky and the emeralds had latched on to one another, one fierce and the other suddenly seeming regretful. The amethyst colored gaze of the Canadian currently clinging to the bed tore away from the generic, sterile white colored blankets stained red with blood, and the figure resting beneath them. He looked at the two.

The other two in the room felt almost sick; Antonio more than Gilbert due to the fact he had raised many, many more little nations that left him throughout the years. In all truth, Arthur had felt the hurt from more than just Alfred. From Matthew, from Jett, from Michelle, from all of the little nations that had places in his heart and had left him. Alfred's revolution had hurt him the most, since he'd had such a strong bond with the steadfast little colony. It had taken much too long for that rift caused by American independence to heal.

Eventually the silence between the two was broken, as Alfred let the little orbs of sky flicker away. They filled with tears.

"...Artie... I really didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't want to make you hate me so much for all of that. I didn't want to make you act the way you do. I really cared about you and I still do. I just had to break away. Part of me wanted to stay but the other was fed up with the constant taxing of my people without even asking. You saw me and my citizens as ignorant children and you seemed like you didn't care about my best interests anymore. I don't regret what I did... but I don't like that it had to happen that way. If you had just let me go... things could have been different."

He didn't let anyone see, but a tear slowly made its way down his cheek. The American hadn't cried in front of anyone, let alone Arthur, in a long time. He honestly felt like it was a right Arthur had lost a long, long time ago. Arthur could sense what he said had been a big weight on Alfred, almost seeming as if he were carrying a million pounds on his shoulders. Arthur sighed softly, holding onto Francis's pale and fragile looking hands, biting back his own tears. He felt ashamed of himself and his actions, like he had failed as a guardian, best friend, and even as a lover as well.

He looked at the ground and whispered softly, "I'm sorry... I have failed all of you. I wish I didn't hurt everyone I care about..." His voice started to crack a bit. "Why do I even try anymore...?"

Antonio and Gilbert saw that Arthur was shaking a bit, his body seeming to get smaller and smaller in the chair. The ruby eyed Prussian sat on the floor beside him, gently resting a hand on the Brit's shoulder.

"Don't beat yourselves up. None of us are guilty. Francis did this too. He didn't love himself enough to keep going..."

Antonio sighed quietly. "Francis often said very depressing things when he was drunk, and sometimes slipped a dark comment now and then when he was sober as well. I never really understood what it was all about. We thought it was alcohol just making him act that way... I wish I could have realized sooner and helped him."

Once again, the room fell silent for what seemed like hours. Emeralds rested on Francis's frail body, looking over every inch of him. It sickened him. This wasn't his Francis. He wasn't absolutely shimmering, wasn't smiling at him and making his heart leap out of his chest, wasn't making him want to punch someone in the face so hard all of their teeth fall out and get a concussion.

Eventually he allowed himself to look over at Alfred and Matthew, seeing the two had clung to Francis and held him as if he were a doll made from the finest of china. Fragile and priceless. It broke his heart. He lost his family once and he felt like he was losing them all over again. He slowly stood up from his chair and wrapped his arms around all three of them.

"I wish I was better for you. I'm the problem. I keep losing you all again and again. I love you all and I don't want to make these same mistakes all over..."

Only one voice responded, belonging to Matthew. "I'm not mad Arthur... and I'm sorry too. I know I've hurt you as well. It's not fair to you to keep feeling pain over and over again. I guess that's why- Francis did this. He didn't want to feel pain anymore."

After a matter of minutes, the three were all in tears. Gilbert and Antonio joined them at the thought of losing their beloved friend for good. With the whole party in tears, the room carried a dreary and almost doomed air about it. A door opened slowly, revealing a thin framed man, who was of an average height for a French man. He was wearing a doctor's coat, as well as a pair of glasses that rested on the bridge of his nose that made his brown eyes stand out a bit more. He was fair haired, having locks like the bark of an oak tree. He cleared his throat and all eyes turned to him, slightly confused, before putting the pieces together. Arthur was the first to approach him. "Sir! How is he? Will he live?! He'll be able to live a normal life right?! Answer me!"

The man blinked in surprise before patting his shoulder to signal him to calm down, and gently cleared his throat. "He's stable as of right now, but he has lost quite a fair amount of blood. You brought him here just in time, Mr. Britain. As for if he lives... his condition is deathly weak. He has the ability survive, but chances are very slim. If he wants to live again, he will."

Arthur didn't seem satisfied with that answer. "You're telling me, there's a large chance I'll never..." He looked at Francis. "I'll never get to see his smile again...?"

The English he was speaking was shaky, but the doctor was trying his hardest. "Yes. Unfortunately Mr. France's wounds are deep. I suppose that explains the economic crisis we are currently going through..."

All the members of the room had their eyes widen. Arthur murmured; "He... he did this, knowing he would put millions in danger. He hated himself so much... he was willing to sacrifice the people he loved more than anything..."

He choked on the air he was breathing, hugging Francis gently. "...You idiot. Why...? Why did you leave me alone like this? I love you! I love you, I love you! I said it, and I'm sorry for lying! Don't leave me here! I can't live without you... come back..."

He broke down, unable to control the tears that were violently leaving his eyes. The doctor's face softened, feeling pity for him. He hadn't known that either of them had feelings for each other, but it was none of his business anyway. He then said, "If it helps, I promise to take very good care of him. I'll try to get him out of his coma, help him get stronger. He is my country after all. It is my duty. But I can tell this is an emotional moment for you all... so I will try even harder."

"...Thank you, sir..."

The doctor nodded and left the room, not wanting to disturb the grieving countries any longer. Meanwhile, across the world, news had spread about what had happened to Francis, some nations boarding planes on their way to see for themselves if it was true. They were in denial or emotionally distressed. Some other countries thought of this as a new opportunity for land to have as their own. They planned on making sure that they could no longer hear that heart monitor, and make sure Arthur never got to see his beloved smile. Those countries... were Arthur's worst nightmare.

After hours had past, the door of the room slammed open. A distressed Feliciano, Lovino, and Ludwig arrived. Antonio went to greet them, but was shoved aside by Lovino as the brothers went to hug the frail body of Francis. Arthur watched as Feliciano burst into tears. The Italian let out a wail. "Big brother..."

Ludwig had been smothered in hugs by his brother, though was in tears himself. It was emotionally scarring, because Francis was loved by all of them. He had been a brother to many, a friend to some, and had been respected for everything he did with poise and passion.

Arthur looked at all of them, feeling upset with himself. He truly believed it was his fault, despite Gilbert's earlier words. "I'm sorry. This is my entire fault. If I had just told him...n-none of us would be in so much pain right now."

Lovino glared at him. "This is your fault?! You bastard!"

He leapt out at him, but Antonio held him back. He struggled in Antonio's grip. "Why would you kill my dumb French brother?! You should feel like major crapola! Rot in hell!"

Alfred frowned. "He didn't do this, okay? He's just beating himself up over it! What really happened was-"

Before he could finish, a nurse came in holding a large, leather-bound book, which had "The Personal Journal of Francis Bonnefoy" written across the front. She handed it to Arthur, saying, "Read the inside cover."

Intrigued and confused, he opened the book as instructed. There was a note:

Bonjour Arthur,

I leave my journal to you. It has everything personal I've ever written within it, and I hope you will grant me the final wish of keeping a piece of me with you. My needs to get rid of this pain I'm suffering from are increasing and I can't control it anymore. I am sorry I'm not good enough for your love and grace. Whoever it is that has your heart, I pray they will love you at least half as much as I did. You are the person I live every day for, even when we were fighting, those countless centuries. I tried to deny it for a long time, and I went to be with people that weren't able to fill the place in my heart like you do. I won't bother you any longer with my parting words, so I will leave you with this.

Never stop fighting for what you believe in. Never stop being yourself. Never stop being that beautiful Brit I get to look upon every day and wish was mine.

Je t'aime,

-Francis

When he finished reading, he held the book close to his heart and wept, softly and sadly. He was like a song in a minor key; Mournful, forlorn, and laced with grief.

"I promise... I won't let you die. I'll do everything I can to make up for what I did. I love you too. I'm an idiot for letting you slip through my fingers..."

They were all forced out of the room by the same nurse after that. Of course, Arthur didn't want to leave. He narrowed his eyes and dared the woman to make him leave Francis's side... though with one glare he gave in and walked out. He looked down at the book with a pitiful sniffle, running his fingers down it. He shook his head as if everything were in slow motion. "I... Still can't believe he did this."

Antonio walked over to the whimpering Brit, patting his shoulder with a friendly light in his eyes. "Don't worry amigo, Francis is a strong man. Even at a time like this he wouldn't leave. He would miss you too much."

That was intended to make him feel better, but unfortunately for the Spaniard, it had the opposite effect."...Miss me too much? If I were him I would hate my own guts. God, I'm such a worthless-"

"Iggy just stop. Having one person hate themselves when they had nothing to hate themselves over was bad enough. We don't need two!"

That came from Alfred, who'd been feeling remorseful for trying to make Arthur feel guilty earlier that day. Before either of them could say another word, Ludwig stood beside Arthur. His harsh, icy eyes looked over him, not as intense as they usually were.

"How about we get out of here? It will do us no good to just sit in this waiting room all day. Let us go to Francis' home at least. If anything, there we can speak comfortably."

The others seemed to be in agreement with that, all nodding their heads. Arthur let a gust of wind escape his lips and nodded. "Alright, let us be going..."


	7. Old Memories

The British gentleman led the way, still clutching the book tightly. It was a bit of a walk to the house, but no one complained. Now that Arthur was looking, he could see how desolate the streets were. Everything seemed to have despair seeping out of every crack in every home. It was uncomfortable, cold, and definitely not the Paris as everyone else knew it... and that broke Arthur's heart even more. Pressing on despite the aching in his chest, they soon arrived to the still pristine and glowing abode of the Frenchman. Arthur knew where the key was, going to a discrete and disclosed location to grab it. He could hear a faint meowing when he returned to the door, as well as Feliciano wailing, "Is there a little kitty in there?! Don't worry; we're coming to save you soon!"

Arthur's eyes widened as he remembered the feline was still inside, hastily unlocking and swinging open the door. The beautiful, snow colored cat had been sitting in front of the door, obviously craving the return of his master. Arthur was close enough however. He brushed against the Brit's leg and meowed a greeting.

Confusion rippled through the others like a wave, none of them having seen this cat before. Even more confusion came to them when Arthur sat the book aside to take the cat in his arms and gently pet him. As he purred, Matthew asked timidly, "Is that Francis's cat? I didn't know he had one..."

"Neither did I!" Alfred said, stepping up to Arthur to pet it gently. "It sure is soft."

Arthur didn't answer the questions, too wrapped up in holding the cat close to himself and pressing kisses to his fur. He still reminded the Brit of Francis. He mumbled inaudible words, though Alfred thought he could hear 'I'm sorry' repeated from Arthur's quivering lips as he held the cat dear and precious.

Feliciano started to stroke the cat with Arthur, giving a hum. "Big brother would have loved a kitty like this! So pretty and soft…"

Lovino huffed and looked away. "Yeah... it acts just like him. Especially how it seems to like Arthur so much."

"He did love this cat. It was the first time I saw him genuinely smile after... what I did." Arthur said gently, responding to what Feliciano had said as well as Lovino. "And it is just like him. I knew there was a reason Francis chose this one... he reminds me of him so much..."

Everyone was saddened a bit more at that, deciding to move into the living room and give the Brit some space. Once they left, his emeralds revealed themselves as he looked at the cat. "Francis is going to get better. And when he does, the both of us are going to tell him how much we missed him... how much we really love him..."

"Hey Arthur!" Gilbert sounded from the living room. "I know you're grieving and everything, but get in here! Bring the diary too! We're gonna read it!"

Arthur walked in, carrying said diary, but looked more ready to explode than an active volcano. "Have you gone daft?! We're not going to read this! Especially since when he recovers, he'll be mad enough at me already!"

Matthew shook his head. "Not for that reason, Arthur. It's because he left it to you for a purpose. There's got to be something in here that's really important..."

Ludwig gave a slight hum in agreement. "They have a good point. There must be a reason he wanted you to have it."

Arthur sat down, holding the two things that reminded him most of Francis dearly. Although he didn't want to invade Francis's privacy, they had very good reasoning. They might miss something important if they didn't read through it. Against his own wishes, he responded, "Alright... but we're only reading things that are relevant."

Once the cover opened once again and they flipped past the page, they found something a bit odd. Different things were highlighted different colors... which meant Francis knew this was going to happen to him after his cutting spree. It was also noticeable they had been touched while his wounds were fresh, as little droplets of blood accented each highlighted page. None of them could figure out what this meant, until Antonio noticed something. "Arthur, go back to the first page."

Emerald eyes met him for a moment, a bit confused, but compliant. Once the pages turned, Antonio pointed. "See? It says to turn to the last page."

After he heaved all the pages to the side, a small bit of writing, as well as small spatters of blood, could be visible:

'If I know you like I think I do, Angleterre, the others will be with you. I want them to know I love them all very much, and I want them to see that I care about them even though I don't care about myself anymore. Each one of the highlighted pages are for all of you to read together. Though, who it is for will be in a specific color. My dear sweet Angleterre, your pages will be green. Alfred's pages will be red. Mon petit Mathieu will have the purple pages. Antonio will have orange pages. Gilbert will have blue, Feliciano will have yellow, Lovino will have brown, and last but not least, Emma will have pink. Hopefully you will remember these times as fondly as I did. I love you all very much... au revoir, ma famille~'

Arthur was wide eyed once he read all of that, voice trembling towards the end. "He... spent so much time on this. I can't believe he even did this for me- I can understand all of you b-but..."

Feliciano could tell Arthur was almost to the point of tears, and the Italian man hadn't seen Arthur like that before. Everyone else had one time or another, but the two weren't really close at all. He came over and hugged him, saying in a desperate attempt to lift his spirits, "Big brother always loved you. He talked about you all the time around Lovi and me. I could tell that it was hard for him though, because he has never loved someone so much. Not even Jeanne d'Arc. I never saw him happier then when he talked about you though, and he still does. He always will... don't cry. He'll be okay. And when he wakes up from his nap you can tell him how you feel. Everything will be just fine!"

Although he hadn't been expecting such from him, it was greatly appreciated. He even smiled just a little, patting the Northern Italian man's back. "Thank you. That helps."

Once they broke apart, he sighed. "Well, the first page is green. I know Emma isn't here but... I have to know."

Alfred nodded. "Go ahead. Emma's a chill chick. She won't mind that we started without her."

With that, he opened it to the first marked page:

'Today, Arthur came to visit me... though it wasn't something that I would have expected from him. In all reality I found it was very out of character for him. I still think Antonio and Gilbert dared him to do it...'

And with that, the memory became vivid in Arthur's mind.

It was a day that seemed to be hotter than the depths of hell. Arthur would have thought even Russia would be melting. He'd traveled to Francis's summer home in a small, sleepy little town not many knew of if they didn't live there. Francis had been cooking himself some dinner when he heard a knock sound from the entry way. His heart skipped a beat when he heard Arthur call out, "Answer the bloody door! I can smell cooking going on in there so you better not pretend you aren't home like last time!"

Sapphires dazzled in delight at the old teasing, hurrying over to answer the door before making his way back to the kitchen faster than the blink of an eye. The brit walked in with his usual scowl, his emeralds keeping a sharp look out for nothing in particular. His old shoes clacked against the wood, which made Francis laugh.

"Oh, did you bring a horse with you, cher?"

"Shut your ugly mug." He replied, folding his arms as he walked into the kitchen.

Francis stopped busying himself with the cooking to give him a coy smile. "What brings you to my summer home, Angleterre?"

In response he got a gruff, "I came to have supper with you."

The Frenchman almost dropped the pan he was holding. "Supper? With Moi? Hm, I think you have finally lost your mind..."

"No, I'm serious." He shuffled his feet a little bit, out of embarrassment. "Recently I've… honestly been craving the dinners you used to cook for myself and the boys when they were younger. Because it reminds me of them and I honestly wish I could go back to that."

Although shock rippled through him, he still managed an extremely sly, "Are you sure it is not because you missed me as well as our children?"

"No, and please don't call them that. They were both mine in the end anyway."

"Hmph. I still think you've gone crazy, but oui. As long as you set the table."

A roll of the emeralds was all he got before Arthur walked over. "Where do you keep your dishes and your silverware?"

With a simple hand gesture to where both of those things were located, Arthur got them and escaped to the living room. He set the table expertly, having done so every day of his life. He also grabbed Francis a glass and a wine bottle, knowing that was likely what he would have wanted. He himself went with a simple glass of water, since he didn't have any tea with him. He examined it, making sure not a single thing was out of place before click-clacking back into the kitchen. Being the gentleman he was, he came to a point where he almost offered to help him cook.

Francis stopped him, almost able to read his mind before a word could come out of his mouth. "Don't you dare ask me if you can help. If you so much as touch anything it will all be ruined."

Arthur scoffed. "Oh please." Although he smiled, knowing that was coming.

"Go sit down. It will be done in just a bit, black sheep." He couldn't resist a smirk after that.

After huffing (although it was nothing compared to the big bad wolf), he flicked a strand of Francis's hair before laughing like a hyena and running off. Francis gasped. "You naughty little wizard boy!"

Arthur was still snickering when Francis came in with the food he had been preparing, letting the stubborn British man make his own portions before taking the remainder. He noticed the sole wine glass and chuckled. "What's this? You got me my favorite wine in a glass without me having to even ask for it? If I didn't know better, I would think you're compensating for something..."

Arthur had already started eating, finishing what was in his mouth before stating, "Whatever. I've just spent enough years around your constant pestering that I've learned what you like by now."

Not another word was spoken, as Francis too had delved into the food he had prepared. Arthur would admit it was delicious- just not to Francis. His lion-like stubbornness had gotten a hold of him like it always did. He had originally come over to visit Francis and relive the days they used to have when Matthew and Alfred would be playing together and it was just them two.

He missed it with all of his heart and soul, but not a speck of that ever escaped his lips. As they finished both of their meals, the British man wiped his face with a napkin and gave a faint smile. "Thank you. That really did bring back the memories of the days where you refused to subject the children to my perfectly delicious cooking."

Francis winked slightly. "You're welcome. And I saved those children from death by British food and because of me; Matthew and Alfred aren't ruined by your cooking. At least... Matthew isn't."

"Oh, bugger off! Alfred is just fine, thank you very much."

He sounded like a lion defending his pride, which in all honesty made Francis smile wider than he would have admitted. He was about to say something more when Arthur rose to a stand, taking his plate as well as Francis's and going to wash them.

The memory faded and Arthur read the last bits:

'The next thing I knew, he was washing my dishes for me like a proper gentleman would. He really does live up to his name, no matter how grouchy he is. My heart was going a million kilometers an hour and I wondered if someone had put him up to this. I was almost tempted to ask, but I didn't. It would ruin my illusion that he came to see me, just to spend time with me. So I believed it, and even though I called both Gilbert and Antonio after the event, neither of them said they had ever told Arthur to do anything of the sort. Those liars.

Not much else has happened the rest of the day, except that I painted a little. I found myself doing a gray scale painting of a lion... because it's gray like the skies of his city, fierce and yet gentle at the same time like him... and extremely powerful like him as well. The hour is growing late, so I will be getting to bed now. I hope that in the future, I can count this day as one of my best.'

All eyes were on Arthur as he read the last part, the voice of Alfred speaking up. "Did you really do that, dude? I wouldn't think you would be man enough just to go over there and see him. Though it does make sense you wouldn't tell him it was because you missed him."

Arthur just nodded in a slow and smooth manner, taking his time answering. "Yes. I honestly was hoping to spend some quality time with him. It'd been over a year since I'd seen him last, previously to that day..."


End file.
